


Arcapelladillos of Destiny

by phlossie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AUish, Cannon divergence?, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic!Stiles, accapelladillos, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 13:07:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3811666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phlossie/pseuds/phlossie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is good at being prepared, what he didnt expect was Derek. </p><p>or</p><p>That one with the crazy armadillos in it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arcapelladillos of Destiny

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbetad, please tell me if I make big booeys. :)

Stiles had a knack, some people would call it a gift, but having seen actual witches with actual gifs Stiles was fairly comfortable in saying that it was nothing of the sort. He was good at predicting things, that was all.  
  
At any rate it was nothing special, He didn't have visions, he couldn't change the future or anything. No, his ‘gift’ was really very mundane. Even as a child he’d thought it was pretty boring. This could almost certainly be attributed to the fact that he was in almost all cases unconscious of using it. Stiles just wasn't that into his particular proclivity, so he’d never approached the Hedge Council about furthering it, for that matter he didn't really even talk about it; his mother had had a similar gift in much stronger proportions, and that was enough for Stiles to know he didn't care. He wasn't about to compete with his mother for the best psychic ability award. Full Stop.  
  
So Stiles simply went along with his gift (when he was actually conscious of it) and ignored the row of tiny peppercorns along his windowsill (protection against pixies that were yet to arrive in Beacon Hills) and the oranges that would magically appear in his bag the night before he overslept and dashed to work without breakfast. Stiles was entirely accustomed to a change of clothes sitting in the back of his jeep, at one stage (and just before a particularly fearsome run in with a Selkie) he had collected clothing from every single pack member and kept it in the back of the jeep for three weeks before they’d all ended up narrowly missing a drowning and soaked to the bone in the middle of the woods. Stiles himself always carried a change of clothes in his car before the full moon. The wolves almost invariably managed to get him muddy, torn or bloody (by accident or by design) and he preferred to avoid getting any more stains on his already beat upholstery. Although that was conscious risk management rather than prediction.  
  
No, what Stiles was not accustomed to was that clothing being for someone else, someone not part of his every day. Especially not for someone he thought was long gone, vanished into the mists of time or some shit. But no... that would've been too easy.  
  
Stiles was on border patrol when it happened, Driving the car out to the highway so Scott could get a ride back into town once he’d kicked out a group of talking armadillos. It was not so much the armadillos that were the problem, but the fact that they sung literally all the time. And when Stiles said singing armadillos, what he really meant was freaky accapelladillos with multicolored satan shells. Scott was feeling all booey about getting rid of them, which was fine for him, but Stiles had translated the squiggles on their shells and he did not want to find out what “raging zucchini of doom” meant.  
  
Anyway, it was right on dusk, the night of the full moon, and Stiles was out alone driving through the woods (he was so far beyond the point where he thought this was a no good bad idea that he just didn't care anymore, if he could survive senior year he could survive anything) when he saw a human shaped shadow ahead, for about .5 of a second he thought it was Scott, but Scott wasn't that buff. So it could've been Jackson, but ditto and honestly? Jackson was a huge baby who still had to spend full moons with Lydia.  
  
Text to: Isaac: pick up Scott @ highway.  
  
He pulled in ahead of the guy, hopping out of the car (almost falling when his shoelace caught on the seat adjustment lever) and waving in their general direction. He stopped dead when he recognized him.  
  
“Stiles” he sounded gruff, maybe older. A little bit less angry, there was a mellow timbre to his voice that Stiles didnt remember being there before.  
  
“H-hi, You’re back...”  
  
“Yeah, sorry I didnt... call.”  
  
Stiles chest felt like it was busting open, he was back. He was alright. Derek wasn’t dead. He made an aborted gesture toward the wolf.  
  
“You- hm- You staying?”  
  
“I dont know. Can I?”  
  
“Yes, please, oh my god.” Stiles didnt know why but his eyes were prickling, relief maybe. He sniffed. “Here I’ll get you-” he motioned at Derek’s torn jeans and bare torso. Popping the tarp on the jeep and fishing out the change of clothes, he belatedly noticed that it was a pair of his sweats, bigger and baggier than really fit him, and a Henley he had kept (Stolen) before Derek left. He used to keep it under his pillow, he wondered if Derek would be able to tell.  
  
“Thanks” Derek turned away to dress, Stiles averted his gaze and fiddled with his keys.  
  
“I’ll give you a lift if you’d like, do you have somewhere to stay?”  
  
“No... I-” Derek didnt need to finish the sentence, Stiles had remade the spare bed days ago.  


* * *

  
  
The sheriff didnt even batt and eyelid when Stiles bustled through the front door to announce “Derek’s staying in the spare room” and then waltz up the stairs without checking for approval. John had seen the extra toothbrush and facial grooming kit appear in the upstairs bathroom. He’d known it was only a matter of time even without the presage. He nodded to Derek as he ducked, tentatively, through the door.  
  
“Good to have you back”  
  
“Thank you sir.”  
  
“Have you eaten yet?”  
  
Derek shook his head as Stiles yelled “There’s vegetable lasagne in the fridge!”  
  
The sheriff grumbled about health foods being the death of him as he pressed buttons on the microwave. Derek hovered until Stiles stampeded back into the room, swinging on the door frame before descending on the crockery and cutlery. He set the table so that they were all sitting on different sides. Derek wondered at the marked neutrality of it. He’d expected to be quizzed.  
  
“So Derek, How do you like your vegetables? Stiles and I cant seem to agree whether they’re better boiled or baked.”  
  
He paused thoughtfully “I suppose it depends what you’re cooking, but I always liked my mothers baked vegetable salad.” The sheriff gave Stiles a meaningful look.  
  
Stiles pretended not to see “Well, we’ll have to do baked veggies tomorrow, it’ll take too long to cook them tonight” Derek smirked at the father and son, who were glaring at each other across the room, Stiles by the stove and John by the microwave, like nothing had ever changed, like the last five years never happened.

* * *

  
  
After tea Stiles wandered out onto the back porch.  
  
“Figured you wouldnt really be sleeping much tonight.”  
  
Derek shrugged, the Full Moon didn't bother him so much anymore.  
  
“So, What happened?”  
  
Oh, so he was going to have to talk about it.  
  
“Where did you go?”  
  
Stiles was watching him, not expectantly exactly, just intently.  
  
“I didnt really...go anywhere, I just needed to get away from...” He waved a hand at the surrounds.  
  
“-The backyard?” Stiles snickered.  
  
“I needed to clear my head-  
  
“for five years?”  
  
“-I got... caught up....” Derek paused, but Stiles just waited him out “I got a flat in Pheonix, found a job... I’m sorry I didnt call, I just, didnt... think-”  
  
Stiles patted a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. The burbling of the TV drifted through the fly-mesh door, the background hum occasionally broken by the sheriffs snores. Derek lifted his hand to cover Stiles’.

* * *

  
  
They went to bed with little preamble. Derek found everything he needed was exactly where he would expect it to be. Right down to another set of sweats neatly folded on the end of the bed. Stiles roused his father who called a good night to Derek before shuffling off to his room. The house settled into its night time routine, the fridge hummed, the clocks ticked, Stiles various electronic items let out a low buzz. It was quiet, quieter than Derek was used to, but also comforting in a way he couldn't begin to explain.  
  
He woke up in predawn, only a few hours after he fell asleep, to the gentle jostling of another person joining him in the bed. Stiles seemed barely awake, mumbling tiredly about cold feet and werewolf heaters. It was early summer, but Derek didn't mind. It was nice to have the company. Stiles curled into his side, tucking his (Admittedly quite chilly) toes under Derek’s calves.  
  
“Thanks. S’nice to have you back Der”  
  
He chuckled “because I let you warm your feet on me?”  
  
“Yep” Stiles mumbled into his shoulder sending a ripple of gooseflesh across his skin. “I missed you.” Stiles breathing began to even out, fingers loosening their hold on the blanket, twitching a little as he relaxed. Derek listened to the steady beating of his heart and whispered:  
  
“I missed you too”

**Author's Note:**

> Keep an eye out, there might be a sequel if and when I actually get through my nightmare of an ideas folder. 
> 
> As always, please, comments are one of the best ways to keep a writer writing - I dont know about the rest of you, but - getting a comment or a review always sends me off on a writing spree. The more love you give me, the more fics you'll get to love. :D heh
> 
> Find me on  Tumblr .


End file.
